Chapter 6 - The Other Emma
The bank froze the account before the transaction could be completed.
For once, an inconvenience saved me.
The person had submitted an electronic request using my full name, birth date, former address, and the last four digits of my Social Security number.
Information Liam knew.
Information a stranger should not.
I spent the next morning changing passwords.
Banking.
Email.
Cloud storage.
Phone carrier.
Credit cards.
I froze my credit.
Then I checked my credit report.
One unfamiliar inquiry appeared.
A financing company.
Eight months earlier.
I called Danielle.
“Another one.”
“What?”
I told her.
She went quiet.
“We need a forensic accountant.”
I laughed without humor.
“I thought divorce was supposed to involve arguing over who gets the couch.”
“Sometimes it does.”
“And mine?”
“Yours apparently involves shell companies.”
Great.
By Chapter Six, my marriage had become a low-budget financial thriller.
Except I was living in it.
And there was a three-month-old baby who needed feeding every three hours.
The forensic accountant was named Martin Chen.
He spoke calmly even while explaining terrifying things.
“Think of money like water,” he said.
“If someone wants to hide where it came from, they run it through enough pipes that eventually everyone gets tired of following.”
“I’m not tired.”
He smiled slightly.
“Good.”
Over the next week, Martin traced the transfers.
Northstar received money from several sources.
Some belonged to Liam.
Some appeared connected to his employer.
That caught my attention.
“What do you mean connected?”
“Expense reimbursements, bonuses, consulting payments.”
“Are they legitimate?”
“I didn’t say they weren’t.”
“But?”
“But the structure is unusual.”
I leaned forward.
“Unusual how?”
“Some payments were sent to entities rather than directly to your husband.”
“Why?”
“That’s what we’re determining.”
My phone rang.
Carol.
I almost ignored it.
Then answered.
“Hi.”
Her voice shook.
“Emma, is Liam with you?”
“No.”
“He’s not answering.”
“Why would he be with me?”
“He left us a message.”
“What kind of message?”
“He said he needed time to think.”
I closed my eyes.
“Carol, he’s angry and embarrassed. He probably turned off his phone.”
“He sounded strange.”
“How strange?”
“Like he was saying goodbye.”
The words landed heavily.
Whatever I felt toward Liam, I did not want anything bad to happen to him.
I called his father.
Then his best friend.
Then, despite every instinct, Sophia.
Her number had appeared in the documents.
She answered on the third ring.
“Hello?”
“This is Emma Reynolds.”
Silence.
Then she hung up.
I called again.
Voicemail.
I texted.
I am not calling to argue. Liam’s family cannot reach him. Do you know where he is?
Thirty seconds later:
No.
Then:
And please don’t contact me again.
I sent:
If he contacts you, tell his mother he is safe. Nothing else.
No reply.
Two hours later, Richard called.
“They found him.”
“Where?”
“The condo.”
Of course.
“Is he okay?”
“He’s fine.”
Relief arrived before anger.
Human emotions are inconvenient that way.
“What was wrong?”
“Nothing.”
I frowned.
“Then why the message?”
Richard sounded exhausted.
“He says he needed space.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
That night Liam texted me.
Nice job turning my parents against me.
I stared.
Then replied.
Your mother was afraid something happened to you.
You all overreacted.
I did not answer.
Three minutes later:
I want my family back.
I looked at those words for a long time.
Not you.
Not our marriage.
My family.
Possession disguised as affection.
I wrote:
Then start by telling the truth.
His reply:
About what?
I almost admired him.
Almost.
I answered:
Exactly.
The next morning, a courier arrived.
A large envelope.
No return address.
Inside were photocopies of contracts.
Invoices.
Emails.
At the top was a handwritten note.
You’re looking at the wrong betrayal.
My heart sped up.
The documents connected Waverly Consulting to Liam’s employer.
Dozens of payments.
Some approved by Liam.
Some approved by Sophia.
Together, they totaled $312,000.
I called Martin.
He looked through the scans.
“This changes things.”
“How?”
“These don’t look personal.”
“What do they look like?”
“Corporate.”
“Meaning?”
He paused.
“Meaning your husband’s marriage may not be the biggest problem he has.”
At the bottom of the envelope was one final page.
A printed email from Sophia to Liam.
Once the audit starts, Emma becomes the obvious explanation. The accounts already connect to her name.
My entire body went cold.
They were not only hiding money.
May you like
They had been preparing to blame me for it.
---
